


Woes of the Witch

by TrashqueenofAngmar91



Series: Of Shadows and Tenderness [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Backstory, Crash course of the Angmar-Arnor war, Dark fic, Dúnedain vs Black Númenoreans, Evil Old Lady is Evil, F/M, Grudges, Headcanon, Kings & Queens, OC POV, Reader is a woman, Reader is of the race of Man, Witchcraft, Yandere, be gone thot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 19:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashqueenofAngmar91/pseuds/TrashqueenofAngmar91
Summary: "A Dúnedain will simply not do. They are self righteous, delusional crusaders who have an unhealthy and unflattering obsession with those wretched Elves. It was a pity that they weren't all wiped out with the fall of their kingdom."In which Mariss makes her fateful choice and decides to craft herself into a suitable bride for her ancestors' lord. This follows her POV mainly and is a part of my "Of Shadows and Tenderness" series. Takes place after chapter 5 in "The House of Angmar".





	Woes of the Witch

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a totally spur of the moment thing. I figured I wanted to write a bit about that pathetic villain I came up with in the main story. I still have more stuff planned for this series but who knows when I'll write that stuff. Hopefully you guys aren't sick of this series and are curious enough to check this snippet out.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

Woes of the Witch

_"There is a queen in this realm and she is my wife."_

Those words circulated in her mind relentlessly. The old woman simply couldn't understand it. This was something she never would've foreseen or imagined and yet this was what happened. This was the reality she was presented with and make do with what she was given for that matter.

For the hundreds of years that it persisted and waged war against the three Dúnedain kingdoms, the realm of Angmar had only one monarch. Angmar had one, sole ruler and that was the Witch-king. He had never taken a wife during all those centuries he led his kingdom. Mariss was certain there would've been a record of such a thing if a royal marriage did occur but there was none. The stories she had been regaled by her elders told her everything about the realm they once called home. She believed that they had known everything and she knew it all as well. She deemed that the Witch-king had no need for a consort and so many others of her kind assumed the same thing.

Yet she was wrong on this.

Indeed, Angmar had no queen when it was still a functioning realm. Angmar had no lady but the citadel of Minas Morgul was a wholly different situation. She would indeed bow to the lord of the Nazgûl as her ancestors had done. But she would also have to serve and respect the one he had chosen to be his bride.

Quietly, she sat on her bed, her thoughts still running wild. Four days had passed since she arrived at Minas Morgul and subsequently learned the unbelievable truth. She was still having difficulty making sense of it all. Obsessively, she pondered over this newfound information. It was a mystery and she couldn't make sense of any of it. As much as she wanted to ignore it all, Mariss simply couldn't. It tortured her.

Why had he taken a wife now? Why had he not done so when he was still the lord of Angmar? Was there a particular reason as to why he came to this decision? What was the purpose? And most importantly, why did he choose her?

The Black Númenorean female was at a loss. She had also privately spoken to this so called Morgul lady this morning and she was still befuddled over the whole matter. In fact, Mariss found herself to be even more confused and mystified after talking to this young woman. It only made matters even more complicated and her desire for answers became all the more earnest. Anger was swelling within her more and more as time continued to flow by…

" _My grandfather was a full blooded Dúnedain warrior…_ "

This woman was a descendant of Arnor's folk. Her ancestors had escaped the plagues, the bloodshed and the slaughter that had claimed many of their people. Those ancestors managed to survive the centuries after the fall of their kingdoms and she was the direct result of that Dúnedain persistence and tenacity. Their bloodlines still were very much alive and they continued to cling to the present. They had not faded into obscure antiquity just yet.

And yet this woman who had the blood of the enemy pulsating through her veins was somehow the wife of the Witch-king. The descendant of a Dúnedain now was her lady and superior. Mariss was beyond insulted and infuriated over this twist of events. Her blood boiled and as she clutched the head of her cane, her hand shook. Mariss was unsure when the last time she felt so angered was. Disgust filled her to the brim.

How? How could this have happened? Did her lord and liege fully realize he had wed a woman with such unacceptable and shameful roots? He devoted hundreds of years to the eradication and decimation of the Dúnedain and their realm. He expressed his hatred of them and yet he had settled for one as his bride.

It took her a near legendary amount of patience and calm to not lash out at this wench when she was speaking with her. The more she learned about her, the more she loathed her. Mariss felt like a huge hypocrite for addressing her so civilly. But she knew she had to maintain whatever serenity she had. She couldn't let it be known that she was livid with these unwelcome circumstances. If such a thing came to light, she would undoubtedly face his wrath and the witch wanted to remain in the good graces of her master. Indeed, she had promised the Witch-king she would serve him…but she made no oath to serve his undeserving queen.

When she heard that the Morgul lady had lost her family, she was pleased. Mariss had to stop herself from smiling at her sorrows. The less of her race there were, the more she would be pleased. For every Dúnedain that perished, the more placated she felt. Her ancestors would be avenged for every one of their deaths. It was her belief that those Men needed to be wiped from the face of Middle Earth.

And then there was the ring the lady sported…

"I want that," she whispered to herself.

As soon as she laid eyes upon it, she coveted it. The silver band gleamed brightly and the jewels were polished and impeccable. Undoubtedly, this was a gift that the Witch-king bequeathed to his spouse. It was indeed a regal article and she desired it greatly. Somehow she would snatch it away and claim it as her own. Sooner or later, one way or another, she would be the bearer of this fine ring. In her mind, she believed she was far more worthy of wearing such a thing.

" _If only I had known,_ " she thought. " _There was no news, no decree. They had met by chance and that was it. I do not understand. How could this have happened?_ "

She wouldn't allow this to persist. She simply couldn't let this go on any longer than it already had. One year was a year too long. This woman needed to be usurped. If he wanted a wife, she would have to make him see that this Ranger-born filth wasn't the one fit for the honor. Mariss had no idea what the Witch-king saw in her but she wouldn't allow this travesty to go on any longer. It would be a grave injustice by letting it persist. She saw she might have to assist her lord and make him see the error of his ways. She had to make him see reason and realize he made a poor choice in selecting this lesser creature as his mate.

Long ago, her ancestor, Heccan, had been cut down by a Dúnedain warrior at the Barrow-downs. She had died in the line of duty and sacrificed her life to further the agenda of her king and kingdom. Mariss would never forget her act and that of Heccan's kin and she would be sure to avenge them however she could. Her mother had relayed their long family story to her and she was well aware of her lineage and what she had descended from. Mariss was proud to have the same blood of the witches of Angmar. She wouldn't forsake their history and she wouldn't let it become tarnished and sullied.

" _Her people love the Elves and want to be like them in unattractive manners,_ " she confided into herself. " _Perhaps she is a Dúnedain enchantress bestowed with some Elvish magic and that was how she managed to ensnare my king. I can think of no other way as to how this transpired. I must be rid of her._ "

But she pondered over how to do this. She would have to be discreet and wise with this. If she had truly enchanted the Witch-king, she would have to be confronted and defeated sensibly. Mariss was also more than aware that she was quite ancient. She was easily over two hundred years old. She had become feeble and wizened and her senses were failing her. Overpowering her physically was also out of the question for obvious reasons. As queen, her foe would also be protected and she would have to take the Orcs into account as well. Things could be very precarious and the old sorceress knew she'd have to tread very cautiously.

" _A Dúnedain will simply not do,"_ she thought. There was venom and malice in her tone. " _They are self righteous, delusional crusaders who have an unhealthy and unflattering obsession with those wretched Elves. It was a pity that they weren't all wiped out with the fall of their kingdom._ " She clutched her can harder and her marred, clouded eyes narrowed into an evil sneer. " _If he must have a wife, it will be someone from within his own realm or someone who knows and understands him. This silly maiden knows nothing._ "

An idea then started to form within her darkened and withered conscious. A twisted smile formed on her face when she pondered more and more.

Since she was born and raised in the Black Númenorean port of Umbar, she was exposed to many things over her lengthy life. Umbar had long been a stronghold of those who opposed the Faithful of Númenor. The hatred those inhabitants bore towards Elendil's folk still ran deep and Mariss had adopted the same mindset. Along with her family history, her grudge only became all the more powerful and dire. The Haradric area that Umbar lingered within had long practiced dark magic and the witches who had fled Angmar concluding its fall quickly made themselves at home in this region.

Her mother and grandmother groomed her to be a witch just like them and they were powerful casters in their own right. She followed in their footsteps and she wouldn't ever deviate from such a path. She devoted her life to her craft and she had even forgone marriage and several suitors so she could master her abilities. For many years, she practiced and strove to be as fearsome as she could in the hopes of one day serving the Witch-king. Her elders had taught her as much as they could and that ended up being their ultimate, tragic undoing and demise.

Indeed, the Morgul lady was young. She had youth, the ring and beauty. Undoubtedly, she would live for many, many years. She had everything the crone yearned for. She was the perfect candidate and the perfect rival. All Mariss had to do was seize it for herself. Everything was there…

There was an old and fell magic she could employ. It was very rarely seen or used because it was difficult to master. It was also subtle and it could be mistaken as an illness the afflicted was struck with. Not only that, it was dangerous and there was the risk of it backfiring or potentially killing the caster in the process. However, she was willing to try it. Mariss never tried it before but she was poised to attempt it for herself. She knew she was old and her days were numbered. The hag was willing to chance the rest of her lifespan with this maneuver. If this succeeded, the benefits would be more than worth it. She couldn't think of a more fitting way to go about this overthrow. In her eyes, this was more than justified.

" _All I need would be a few hairs from her head,_ " she thought. " _Just some stray strands. I could get those from her brush or her pillow, nothing more and nothing less._ "

Her clutch on her cane eased up ever so slightly. Her smile remained. Mariss became more and more encouraged and empowered as she entertained the thought more. She had to put this into motion. She would take care of the queen and then proceed from there. Once she was removed from her position, then everything would be far easier. To not act and seize the opportunity would be unforgivable.

" _You poor, young, sweet, innocent thing… I could sense the confusion and the apprehension in you, my little queen. Even you know this was never meant to be your realm and your privilege. He may have chosen you but I do believe this may have been the biggest blunder he has ever made. But I will open his eyes and correct him gently. If he does desire a wife, I will mold him one. This one will be far more suitable and fit for this sort of position. My dear, you won't need to have to worry about a single thing after I'm through with you._ "

She could smell her fear. Mariss could see right through her and she knew she was trying her best to remain as strong and as steely as possible. She could see the weakness and she found it simply delicious. It was too tempting to resist and she wanted to relish in it. What she wanted to do was exploit it.

Mariss always admired the Witch-king and held him in the utmost regard. She praised what he had done and he was a perverse role model of sorts for her. He was a powerful and ancient sorcerer who wielded horrific and worthy power and she respected him highly for it. She wanted to reach the level he was at. She wanted to be taught what he knew. As a witch, in her eyes, he was the pinnacle of knowledge and power. To be able to become his equal was something she desired. But if she could settle on being his right hand and possibly his queen, she would be perfectly happy with settling for that fate as well.

It was done and she wouldn't back down. She would turn back the sands of time and Mariss would know of youth, vigor and beauty once again. She would take what she believed was rightfully hers. She would suffer no opposition and she would remain focused and merciless.

To become a queen, she would need to ruin one first.


End file.
